I want to ride my bicycle
by xXSuzuXx
Summary: modern AC3 Au, in which Haytham is a student teacher. Rated M just in case.


Two months ago, near the end of August, school had begun. Only two months ago, yet there he was standing at a bike shop and looking to purchase a new bike- his first bike.

Little ever seemed to change in high school, not the people he saw, nor the events that took place, and for the most part even the curriculum remained the same. It had all becoming incredibly redundant. At least until the arrival of a new student teacher, a handsome, and charismatic young man who had become quite popular among the students very quickly. Though he had only watched from afar and caught glimpses in the hallways, he had witnessed the man's kindness first hand, seen simply in the way he pulled students in for additional help, and did not sneer down even at students like Thomas Hickey, who he rather seemed determined to teach. It was odd, and yet refreshing to have him amongst the otherwise stiff, tired teachers.

Unfortunately, he was not like the others. For one, the teacher taught students in their second year, while he was a senior, and second, he did not socialize. Thus it had come as a great surprise when he had been invited to go dirt-biking along with his peers. He, who was often referred to as 'the teacher's pet'. When he inquired on the reason, the not yet teacher had merely replied, "I thought you might like to join," and so he'd agreed, simple as that.

Then there was another problem, in that he didn't know how to ride a bike, a problem to which he feared there was no solution other than to admit as much. The older man did not laugh at him, as he'd feared- he had laughed, though not so much at him- but offered instead to teach him.

That was why he waited in front for the bike shop, half an hour early for the time they had agreed to meet. The teacher himself arrived five minutes early, pulling into the lot in a silver minivan. Hair tied back as he recognized, Charles spotted him immediately and made to greet him. "Master Kenway," He called, and the man, still climbing from the vehicle looked to him.

"Ah, Charles. My apologies. Were you waiting long?" Asked Kenway as he rose to his full size and shut the door.

The teen shook his head. Yes, he had been waiting; for twenty five minutes, in fact, but that had been his own fault and he did not want to trouble the man with guilt. "No, not long at all. I only just got here, mister Kenway, and you are still early."

Nodding, a smile formed upon his lips, full and pink and downright distracting. It was only the sound of his voice that dragged Charles from his thoughts. "there is no need to be so formal outside of class; you can call me Haytham."

The name sounded odd, but wonderful on his lips. "Haytham," he repeated, half dazed.

"Would you like to go in now?" Asked Haytham, to which he nodded and turned to follow the man inside.

Knowing virtually nothing of bikes, Charles left it up to Haytham to decide what might be best suited for him. There was more to it than he expected, it seemed. Picking the right size of tires, assuring it was safe, measuring where he stood against the contraption, all of the necessities and then the details to follow. He ended up with a forest green bike, a sturdy looking thing which seemed to suit him rather well, or so Haytham told him. Next they found him a helmet, fitted well to the shape of his head. It was a good hour before they were ready to leave, though leave to where, he wasn't entirely sure. "What now?" He asked as he wheeled the bike from the shop.

"We teach you to ride." Replied Haytham, who lead him to the back of the van where a bike rack was set up; a navy blue bike, much like his, only a tiny bit smaller was set in the rack already. "Of course we will have need to relocate." Haytham looked to him questioningly, and Charles realized he must have been wondering if he was still willing. Nodding, he gave the bike over, and helped the teacher lift it into the rack.

"Where are we going?" Asked Charles.

Haytham opened the passenger door for him and gestured for Charles to climb in. When he complied, he told him, "To the outskirts of town, I think. We'll practice along the back roads," He mused, pulling from the parking spot and falling into a focused silence. Charles noticed how the man scanned everything as he drove, taking in the world around him at face-value, never faltering, never losing focus and never once coming near having an accident. The ride, long as it was, seemed to pass in an instant, leaving Charles baffled when they reached their destination at last, and Haytham had already climbed out and have the door open by the time he noticed. Charles clambered out awkwardly, fumbling over every step as if it caused him great trouble to walk. All the while he could not tell what Kenway might be thinking of him, and it made him very nervous.

"We're here," He announced for what Charles realized was the second time.

"Thank you, s- Haytham," Replied the teen, again moving to help Haytham, this time to retrieve the bike. Pointedly, Haytham left his. They were at a park, he noticed. It was small and overrun with grass and weeds. To his surprise, Haytham passed the grass to the cement walkway and gestured for Charles to get on.

"Here?" There was anxiety in his voice, Charles knew, but starting immediately upon cement made him nervous for good reason

"Yes, here." Haytham looked at him as if he'd just said something incredibly odd.

Made even morenervous by the man's gaze, he swallowed, knowing an elaboration was expected. "What if I fall?"

There was another smile, one that made him feel so small, so silly that he felt his face flush. "I will make sure that no harm befalls you; besides, you do have a helmet, should you fall too hard."

He'd almost felt better until the comment at the end. Nonetheless, he strapped his helmet on and sighed, staring hard at the bike. "It's alright, Charles. The bike won't bite." Haytham assured him, and for the first time Charles actually glared at him with an indignant look upon his face.

With great reluctance, he swung one leg over the seat and stood on his toes. "Great. Now the key to riding a bike is simply balance. Take a moment to gather yours." How strange it seemed to balance on such a thin contraption, balanced only on two wheels. Haytham encouraged him to try to ride, but each time he wobbled he would panic and set his feet down firmly, growing thoroughly frustrated with the challenge until he finally rose and exclaimed,

"Enough! I can't do it."

There was such disappointment in Haytham's eyes that he instantly regretted it. "Nonsense, Charles, you only need practice. Don't be so quick to give up when you wobble; I promise I will not let you get hurt."

It was his own stubbornness that made him shake his head sternly in refusal. "It's fine. I can't do it. I'll just have to refuse next Saturday, no damage done." He shrugged, but it was still frustration etched upon his features. It was not as if he wanted to join his peers in the first place. "I doubt anyone wanted me there to begin with."

There was a near pitying Haytham's eye, one that both made him want to lash out and cry. "Nonsense, Charles," sighed Haytham, hand set upon his shoulder. "I would not have invited you if I did not wish for you to come along… nor would I be here now." He realized then that it was not pity, or even exasperation he was seeing in Hyatham's eyes, but understanding. It was the same which must have pulled other students, students like Thomas Hickey in. "Now, try again. Just one more time, and remember that the balance comes from movement, so do not put your feet down."

Charles gritted his teeth, still frustrated, but nodded. Just one more time wouldn't hurt and he most certainly wished to avoid the look of disappointment in the teacher's eyes. "Once more," He agreed, "and only once more."

There was little more the teacher could have asked from him, and Charles let him know simply by the way he stared at Haytham for a moment. Then his shoulder was released and Haytham stepped back. "Take your time." He was told, and Charles nodded firmly. He intended to.

It was with much care and with all the grace of a three-footed duck that Charles pushed off the side-walk again. When the bike wobbled he wanted more than anything to put his feet down, but he remembered what Haytham had said to him. Charles fought against himself, moved his foot to the petal, and like that he was mobile. It was like a dream, one in which he could fly; a feeling he hadn't noticed at first. The sensation was exhilarating, thrilling, and he was all too proud of his success. Then he laughed, unable to recall the last time he had laughed so freely. "I'm doing it!" He called back at Haytham, who he knew would be growing more distant without looking over his shoulder.

"That you are!" Haytham called back. Charles noted the pleasure in his voice, and it brought about more a sense of elation. "Now, try to maneuver yourself and come back this way."

Now that he was going, turning seemed such a simple task that he felt a fool for having so much difficulty to begin with. There was one last challenge awaiting him, however, one that he failed to notice until he was passing Haytham again. "How do I stop?" He called, and he could hear the panic in his own voice.

If Haytham had given him an answer, it fell upon deaf ears, the noisy skid of his sneakers dragging across the cement until he reached a complete stand still. Haytham laughed as he ran to meet him, stopping at his side. "That is certainly one way to come to a stop," Commented Haytham, chuckling, "but the proper way is to squeeze here…" Hand over his own, Lee's hand was guided to the brake and pressed into it. Pink rose in his cheeks, but he made no move to pull away. "So? What do you think?"

"Warm…"

"Sorry?" A look of perplexity was upon Haytham's face, and Charles flushed.

Clearing his throat, Charles corrected himself. "It was, um, fun."

His floundering forgotten, Haytham nodded. "Enough so that you are off the idea of giving up?"

"I suppose." Replied Charles. "If I knew how to get home I would ride."

Haytham smiled at that. "Wait here," Said Haytham, patting him on the shoulder and hurrying off. Charles watched him as he returned to the car, retrieved his own bike and came back to him, wheeling the bike alongside him. "Why don't we go for a ride together?" Suggested Haytham.

Whether he'd truly enjoyed himself or not, Charles was relatively positive he would not have refused the offer. "I would like that very much, s- Haytham."

With a look of distinct relief upon his face, Haytham set his helmet upon his head and sat on the bike. "Ready?" He asked Charles, who nodded. Nodding in return, Haytham pushed off and Charles followed.

For a few minutes, they simply rode in silence, until Charles grew more confident and picked up enough speed to ride alongside Haytham on the back roads. "How is your senior year going?" Asked Haytham after what felt like an eternity of silence.

Charles chanced a glance to find the man had his eyes locked on him, rather than the usual sweeping motions they often made. "Well enough, thank you. My course load isn't too heavy, just picking up what's left over now."

"Ah, I see. Who is your home room teacher?"

"Mr. Braddock."

Haytham's expression became that of disdain. "Braddock." He repeated and said little more for the rest of the ride.

By the time they returned near an hour later, Charles was happy for the rest, well tired from the ride. Haytham, on the other hand, seemed not to have felt the strain at all.

In fact, he had hardly broken a sweat, he could see as he removed his helmet. "You've done well, Charles, would you like me to give you a ride home?"

A tad bit embarrassed with himself, Charles nodded. "I hate to be a bother, but I don't know how to get home from here."

"It's not a bother at all. I expected as much, in fact."

Together, they loaded the bikes into the rack and climbed in. Besides the directions Charles gave, the ride itself was quiet, hardly a word spoken between them. Not that Charles minded any; he simply enjoyed watching Haytham take the world in. But alas, they reached his house too quickly; it was a tall but narrow house built sometime in the colonial era, not in the best of repair, but a family home nonetheless. "Thank you, Haytham." Said Charles as they each took to the back to remove his new bike.

"For what?" Asked Haytham.

"The ride… helping me… everything" He added in a squeak and Haytham smiled.

"It was not any trouble at all; I rather enjoy having you around. If not sooner, I expect to see you Saturday." With only a nod further, they went their separate ways.

The day was unusually bright and sunny for a mid-October morning. It was getting later in the morning now and ahead Charles could see Haytham looking over the students who had arrived already, no doubt checking off who was present and who was not in his mind. There looked to be just over a dozen others who had arrived already, and simply by the way Haytham looked to him, Charles knew he was the last.

In all, he learned there were sixteen, excluding Haytham himself. There were students of every year, among them the trouble maker, Thomas, a handful of girls he knew were often picked on- the sort that never knew how pretty or talented they were; there were two other seniors, too, Gillian and Joe; and last one freshman by the name of Fillan who frequently flirted both with the girls and boys of the higher grades. Most were from the classes Haytham helped to teach, however, those which he recognized only vaguely.

"That makes everyone, then," Confirmed Haytham, glancing over the group. The others, Charles noted all had someone by their side, someone they might converse with while they rode, all but him and Thomas. "Are we all set, then?"

With only a brief buzz of chatter all agreed and clambered onto their bikes. They were to follow the path, Haytham explained, one which he pointed out, up to the top of the hill where they would then stop, rest awhile and head back down. While the prospect of struggling uphill was not appealing, and then down only less so, there was no room to protest, for they were already on their way. Kenway fell behind; insisting upon it should any fall back or, by chance, get injured along the way.

Charles considered falling back to ride alongside the teacher, but was discouraged when he glanced back to find Thomas there already. He could not remember a time when he had ever seen the boy smiling. Smirking, yes, quite often he wore a cocksure smirk that irritated him on the best of days, but never one like he wore now.

Charles realized then what drew people to Haytham. It was that he did not make people feel smaller than him, that he neither lied nor feigned affection; he genuinely cared, and that drew people to him. People like Thomas, like Gillian and Joke, like Fillan and those shy girls and even Charles. All those who were not quite right in the head, or in the heart, who might have had a void to fill, those who needed someone in their lives who genuinely cared, not only for their future but for them as they were in that moment.

Quite frequently while they rode, Charles would glance back, half hoping that Haytham would say something thoughtless to chase Thomas away. He never did, as he expected, and a few times Haytham gestured for Charles to join him. Each time he turned his attention ahead of him and pretended not to notice.

The ride itself, while not particularly long, was very strenuous. Entirely uphill, the girls soon began to fall behind, forcing Haytham to fall back with Thomas still beside him. Even he, fit as he was from basketball began to have some difficulty toward the top, and he was amazed with the energy and strength Gillian, Joe and Fillan seemed to possess, the youngest even goading Joe on into a race toward the end. He arrived shortly after they did, and after that each followed in succession, the three girls from before guiding their bikes alongside them with Haytham and Thomas both short behind at the very end.

Charles could not help the frustration that overcame him. First in that Haytham was riding with someone besides him, and then in that Haytham, who he knew was more than capable, was forced to walk for the sake of a few incompetent girls. Why these small things frustrated him so was beyond him, but they did, very much so.

There was no room for complaints, however, as Haytham, upon reaching the top of the hill found a place for his bike to rest, then headed to the nearby parking lot. Charles noticed only then that his van was parked there. Most tired from biking up the trail, one by one the others began to sit for a rest. Haytham, on the other hand, was pulling something that must have been very heavy from the trunk. By the time Charles moved to help, Thomas was already there.

Grunting in frustration, Charles sat aside from the other students, trying very hard to make it seem like he wasn't watching Haytham and Thomas moving one large cooler out to the clearing and then another, smaller one. Once that was done with, Haytham spread two large blankets out for them to sit on, if they so desired. From the coolers, sandwiches and drinks were produced, water and juice, but no soda he noticed, or alcohol as Thomas pointed out with a whine. "I'm not here to illegally serve alcohol to under-aged students. You'll have to try again in a few years."

As Thomas continued to pout and complain, Haytham ignored him and looked to Charles instead. This time when the man gestured for him to come over, he did not refuse; there was simply no reason not to now. "Did you enjoy the trail?" Asked Haytham as Charles sat beside him.

Thomas, by then, had begun to wander off into the surrounding bush with a sandwich and drink, so he didn't mind sitting near Haytham again. It meant his attention was dedicated fully to him, even though his eyes still seemed to sweep across the surrounding area. "It was a nice trail, but a bit difficult near the end; I didn't get to enjoy it as much as I wanted to… Maybe I'll try it again when I am better at it."

Both considerate of and pleased with the response, the teacher nodded. "It is not so easy a trail, but among the most rewarding," He replied.

Charles opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short when Gillian spoke instead. "You look kind of young for being a- well, almost a teacher," She paused, hesitant, but pressed on smiling prettily with her deliberately pinked cheeks. "How old are you?"

The question seemed to amuse Haytham, who chuckled, then replied, "Twenty two as of December. It is not so uncommon if one continues their education immediately. I still have a ways to go before I could be considered a proper instructor."

Those who had not wandered off, however, were impressed, himself included. "You're not much older than I am!" Exclaimed Gillian, excitedly.

"By about four or five years, I'd suspect."

Gillian thought hard for a moment. "You must have been a senior when I was a freshman."

The sound Haytham produced was half a chuckle, half a scoff, "Hardly. I was a bit further along than that. See, I was home schooled most of my life. By the time I entered high school, I was bumped ahead very quickly."

Charles wondered, briefly, if Gillian might have felt rather dumb compared to Haytham, gaping at him as she was. Then her expression changed to that of wonderment. "That's very impressive."

Haytham shook his head. "More so irritating. There is a lot of material I would have liked to cover. Unfortunately, I had the honour of having Braddock as one of the few teachers I ever dealt with."

Joe, upon hearing the name, grunted in disdain, but said nothing more to express his displeasure. "An ass of a teacher, he is," Commented Gillian.

"I reached the same conclusion myself." Agreed Haytham, nonplussed. "In fact, by the time the last week rolled around, I had grown so exasperated with him that I set tacks in his chair on the last day," He admitted a bit sheepishly. "But that is something he must never learn of," There was sternness in his tone, though the others were still reduced to breathless giggles.

Slowly, each began to rise to explore, and though Gillian remained to chat with Hyatham for some time, she too eventually got to her feet and set off to explore. Charles was rather pleased to, again, find hind himself alone with Kenway.

"I can't believe you would do something like that to Braddock," Began Charles, mostly to keep him from leaving.

"Neither could he, I suspect. He was very enraged, spent the remainder of the day, and from what I hear, the next year trying to figure out who had done it. No doubt he still holds a grudge."

Finding the idea as amusing as it was surprising, Charles chuckled. "I will do all I can to assure he never finds out."

Haytham smiled. "I appreciate that, Charles. Thank you."

For reasons unknown, there was great warmth deep in his belly, spreading through his system to his cheeks. He swallowed. "U-um," He'd opened his mouth to say something, though he was not entirely sure what he might say when Joe burst from the bush, chest heaving and face flushed.

Immediately, Haytham knew there was something off and was on his feet. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Joe exhaled, tugging at the blasted scarf around his neck, dingy old thing that it was, and replied, "Laura," the name words out in a rush, "She fell- in the river and- I there's nothing I could do, I can't-" He broke off, in part out of embarrassment and in part because Haytham had already taken off, much faster than he could have anticipated.

Joe, though he had appeared breathless, was right on his heels and Charles hardly had the time to catch up. By the time he caught up, and reached the riverbank, it was only with enough time to see Haytham cast his jacket aside and dive recklessly into the- no doubt- chilly waters below.

Peering over the edge, he could see Haytham swimming against the current to the girl, who was flailing about and struggling to keep her head about the water. There was a moment in which he held his breath, all the world but Haytham dulled. It was not the girl he felt concern for, but the rescuer. Relief only came when Haytham, his arm looped around the girl, her blonde hair turned a light chestnut when wet, came upon the shore again, dragging her up the rocks.

Though safe now, the girl was visibly shaken. The others had gathered around after hearing the commotion. While the others were gaping at the girl, -Laura- whose white shirt had turned transparent, his eyes were still upon Haytham. The others stared at poor, suddenly attractive Laura, but his attention remained upon the man even then, whose hair had come free and fell upon his shoulders; whose clothes, now soaked, clung to his body and traced every muscle, every curve of his body. His throat became tight, and pants tighter, making him shift uncomfortably. He was startled, and dragged forcefully back to reality with Fillan's thoughtless wolf whistle, which earned the boy a good swat to the head by his sister. Charles felt equally as disgusted with himself as Fillan should have, but likely didn't feel for himself. Frustrated, he turned on his heels and fled; just in time to catch Haytham drape his jacket over the trembling girl from the corners of his eyes.

Banishing himself from the crowd, Charles disappeared into the bush, away from the others as if running might somehow help him chase away his frustration.

It didn't help any. Half way down the hill, his face was flush and breaths desperate and his problem had yet to dissolve. He groaned, leaning against the tree for added support and squeezing his eyes shut. "Shit," He hissed.

Charles was ready to curse himself out more when there was another voice. "Wot?" All too familiar was Thomas and his perverse English, frustrating him in different ways than Haytham and causing him to tense considerably. "Wot's th' matter, Charlie?" There was something to Thomas' voice, a smugness, perhaps, that suggested he knew precisely what the problem was.

"Beat it, Thomas." Snarled Charles, "I don't need you poking your nose into my business."

When he opened his eyes he found Thomas close: dangerously close. As he thought, there was a smug smirk upon his lips. "Thas some big busy-ness," Teased Thomas, "You got a fing for teacher?" Hickey pressed too near, and as he reached down and palmed his groin, Charles felt his jaw clench, his fingers curl and without warning his fist connected with Hickey's cheek.


End file.
